I’m a member of a photographic society and my wife, as have other member’s wives/husbands, been good enough to act as models for us. This arrangement of occasional model has gone on for a good few years and was never considered anything other than something she did and was never really considered a job of any sort. Particularly as she didn’t usually get paid. However, about a year ago, one of the more professional members asked my wife if she would act as a model for a job he had. She was photographed in various places around the city as if she was commuting to work. The pictures were used by an accountancy firm for their publicity material. She got paid £35 per hour for the work, which seemed like a great idea to me. This first session went very well and the photos were a great success. Since then, he’s asked her to model for him many times. She doesn’t get paid for all the work, but when he gets a commission he makes sure she does. Following one of the recent bigger commissioned jobs (for a medical company of some sort) she came home with over £200 for just a few hours work. It’s fair to say that some of the photos have become a little more daring as their relationship and trust has grown and she’s becoming a more confident model. But that’s OK I think. She’s been quite happy with the arrangement and is obviously become much more relaxed as a model. She’s also bought herself quite a few outfits specifically to wear when getting photographed and with his help, has built herself a reasonable portfolio. This has led to her getting asked to model for a few other photographers. Most of whom I don’t know. I can’t say I’m 100% happy about it, as not all the photographers are a professional as my friend but what can I do? She’s a grown woman. A couple of months ago, she was asked by a group of photographers to model for a day in an old, derelict building somewhere near Leeds. We’ve seen loads of photos taken in such locations and they were paying her. Six photographers, paying £50 each, which is a good pay day she thought; so she accepted the job. It all seemed pretty standard stuff to me. She’d been asked to bring clothes suitable for fashion and glamour style photos. As she was getting herself ready and packing the suitcase with her outfits, I noticed that she wasn’t wearing a bra. It’s difficult for me to say anything, as I’ve encouraged her to leave her bra off loads of times when I’ve photographed her and she goes braless quite often anyway. But for some reason, it made me feel uneasy that morning. Also, it’s not particularly a new thing for her to pose for glamour style photographs, but I didn’t have a clue who any of these people were and they were from outside our area so none of my mates knew them either. So I wasn’t too surprised but I had a sort of empty feeling in my stomach as I watched her getting ready. At the time, I put it down to jealousy. I offered to go with her as a sort of chaperon, but she told me she’d prefer me not to and reassured me she’d be OK. I helped her to the car with her bag and she set off at about 8 o’clock on a Sunday morning for the drive over to Leeds. She was out until about 4.00pm and came back full of it. She’d really enjoyed the day and loved the fact that they’d organised a make-up artist and assistants to hold reflectors and the like. She said they had two very professional lighting sets and it was as professional a set-up as anything she’d ever worked on. She told me that she’d been asked to go back a couple of weeks later for another session. She also handed me a wad of tenners. I counted it and there was £300. She told me that she’d also been give ideas for themes and £100 for clothes for the next session. This all served to make me feel a bit better about the arrangement. The second session came and went with similar success and she was asked back to do a third just two weeks later. With hindsight, the days before the third session were unusual. This time the session was on a Thursday, not the usual weekend and although she’d bought the clothes for the session (she’d been given £100 for clothes again) the previous weekend, she took the day before the session off work to go shopping for a last few bits and pieces. She’d never done this before. She was getting herself prepared on the Wednesday evening and I asked her to see the clothes she was taking with her. She was happy to do so and got them out and put them on the bed. There was a couple of short but quite respectable dresses – the sort of dress, although slightly shorter, she’d sometimes wear for work in fact. She also had couple of flimsy halter tops, a red skirt suit, a very smart, short pinstriped dress and some assorted underwear. Additionally, she’d bought herself a new pair of killer heeled shoes and some knee length boots. She told me that she’d spent well over the £100 she’d been given for clothes but that the £300 she’d be getting paid more than covered the cost of the extras. Besides, the money wasn’t wasted as all the clothes were all quite wearable. That night, as we were going to bed, I saw that she’d obviously been for a full wax too. So I knew that it was unlikely that she would be keeping all her clothes on for the photos. The familiar empty feeling was back. The day of the third session came and she got ready to go. I was getting ready to go to work as she was getting ready to go out. From the bathroom I could see in to the bedroom and watched her get dressed without her knowing. She pulled a tee shirt on – no bra. Then she took a long skirt and put that on without any underwear. She looked at herself in the mirror and was obviously quite happy with what she saw even though the skirt was made from very thin fabric and it was obvious to me that she wasn’t wearing knickers. She collected her stuff, shouted goodbye to me and off she went leaving me with the empty feeling once more. I was home before her and when she came home she was much less effusive about the session than she was last time, but claimed everything had gone well. She showed me the wad of tenners and said she was off to get changed. She’d come home wearing a pair of leggings. As she went upstairs, I noticed that she was wearing knickers now. I thought it a little odd, but in a small way I felt somewhat reassured. A few minutes later she came down stairs in her pajamas, went in to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine. Although I couldn’t help feel she was a little subdued, I put it down to my own feelings of jealousy and after an hour or so all was reasonably well. A couple of weeks or so later, she came home from work and was rushing round to go out with one of her friends. When she’d gone I found a memory stick on the bed with a load of stuff she’d obviously emptied out of her handbag. Curiosity got the better of me and I put the memory stick in to my computer. It held about 30 odd folders each with hundreds of photographs which were obviously taken in the derelict building. The folders were named things like “Steve 1,” Graham 1,” “Phil 2” and the like. There was five different names altogether, each with a number of folders. The first few I looked at were from the first session; I could tell by what she was wearing. As I continued to look through, photos from the second session came up. Certainly a little more explicit than the first. In fact many were what you’d have to call soft porn, but I sort of half expected that as I knew the type of clothes she’d taken with her for that session. All in all though, it wasn’t the first time she’d been the subject of such photos and I thought the photos were very well done with very good lighting and I could not help think that she did look really very, very good. Then I opened a folder in which she was wearing the red suit; obviously the third session. I flicked through them and had the sick empty feeling again as I saw that there was interaction between my wife and a male model in some of the photos. As I opened more folders, the session progressed and they went further and further. In one shot, my wife wearing one of the short dresses and the killer heels. She was pinned against a wall by the young man and they looked as though they were close to kissing. She had her eyes closed as if in ecstasy and he had his hand up her dress and between her legs which were partially open. I could only presume that she didn’t have knickers on. After all, why would she put knickers on for a photo session when she didn’t have any on when she left home? I continued… The next set of photos I opened (in a folder called “Mark 5”) were obviously intended to be stylistic arty images. From the other “Mark” folders, I could see that this seemed to be his intended style. In one shot she was wearing a blue dress and the heels. She was half sitting, leaning back on the edge of a window sill with her legs kicked up in the air. The male model was standing in between her legs with his trousers down round his ankles. She was wearing the killer heels and, hanging round her left ankle was a pair of lace knickers. The idea of the photo being that they were having passionate, fully clothed sex. The series progressed and photos were taken from different angles. Another in the series showed her in the same pose but wearing one of the halter tops and nothing on her bottom half. In another she was naked with her clothes thrown on to the floor around them. All the photos showed simulated sex between my wife and the young male model. Eventually, I came to a folder (“Graham 3”) which held a session of images that clearly showed that the sex was not a simulation. These photos were much less competent than those in the “Mark” folders. There was a photo of her in the tight red skirt and a white, business style shirt with a black tie. He was naked and standing on a chair. She was standing with her hands behind her back, leaning forward and was taking his erect dick in her mouth. In another, the red skirt was pushed up her thighs and he was kneeling down with his head between her legs. Her head was thrown back and her eyes closed in ecstasy once again. There were hundreds of photos taken from all angles. Some from a distance and some from close up – very close up. It was clear that these photos were no simulation. There was still six folders to open… I went straight to the folder called “Mark 6”. There was no surprise when the photo session showed them having sex. There was a wide variety of shots with my wife wearing various clothes and in various states of undress. I quickly flicked through the last six folders, which all showed full on, hard-core sex. I went back to each and looked at every image. The last folder I opened didn’t have a name on it and was just called “Video”. I opened it to find that it contained about 30 .mov files. To say the empty feeling was killing me is an understatement. Opening the first one I realised that it was from the beginning of the session. I watched just a few seconds of it, closed it and went straight to the second to last one. I’ve no idea why I picked the second to last one, I just did. It showed a very good quality video of my wife leaning back against the window sill. She was wearing just a halter top and shoes; naked from the waist down I’d previously seen stills from this part of the shoot. The male was completely naked and was between her open legs fucking her brains out. I flicked back to one of the other files which showed her in a dress, again on the window sill with the dress up round her waist and the male fucking her. I didn’t watch all of any of the videos but kept clicking through to the next one. Eventually, I came to the last one. In it, my wife was wearing the white shirt with a tie and a black skirt and the shoes. The video was filmed from directly overhead and started with her lying on a blanket on the wooden floor looking up in to the camera lens. She undid the shirt and let it fall open. Needless to say, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Then, as she stared up at the lens, she touched herself between her legs as she gradually hitched her skirt up and slipped her knickers off. She then pleasured herself for a few minutes, all while looking directly in to the lens. Soon she beckoned the male model over. He was stood between her open legs. He then knelt and lowered himself on top of her, positioning himself between her spread legs. The moment he entered her was clear from her expression. His back and arse muscles flexed as he stroked in and out of her and she groaned and cooed as he fucked her. All the time looking in to the lens. It was obvious that she orgasmed twice. After a few minutes, it was apparent that he was coming as he increased the speed and power of his movements and then fell heavily on top of her. She played with his hair and stroked and pinched his buttock as she looked up at the camera smiling, looking disheveled and satisfied. Focused on the camera, she mouthed the words, “I love you” and the film ended. I realise this is nothing to do with swinging, but want to get it out of my system and spending a few hours writing this has helped. Thanks.